


the one where everyone's in love with bill denbrough

by psychoticfire



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Losers Club (IT), Attempt at Humor, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Kinda fluff, M/M, Multi, My First Work in This Fandom, bc i dont feel comfy writing them as 11, idk it COULD be you know?, in this fic anyway, its late, lowkey poly losers, mayhaps lowkey OOC, saw a tumblr post and went off on it, sorry about that, theyre aged up to age 15 or so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:08:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23530570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychoticfire/pseuds/psychoticfire
Summary: “Fantastic,” Eddie said, putting his hand down quickly. “Really fantastic. I can’t believe this is happening. The fucking—clown’s probably going to just fuckin’ jump out at us any second, and we’re arguing over who gets to kiss Bill. Us, six outcasts, five of which are boys, living in this stupid homophobic town, standing in the sewers. There are dead kids floating above us. A stupid alien clown wants us dead. My life has come to this. It literally has.”--read a tumblr post that went 'if it was bill who was caught in the deadlights then the losers would probably be fighting over who gets to kiss him' and thought Oh Yeah Why Not?
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Richie Tozier, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris
Comments: 7
Kudos: 102





	the one where everyone's in love with bill denbrough

Bill Denbrough’s eyes were vacant. 

Utterly, completely vacant. 

What should have been a captivating green had faded and been replaced by a milky white that hinted at no sign of life underneath them. Bill’s arms fell limp at his side, and his legs dangled five feet from the mucked ground of Pennywise’s underground sewer lair.

“Bill!” A shout belonging to Stanley Uris rang loud through the chamber, and it was quickly echoed by five other voices.  _ “Bill!” _

The Losers’ Club skidded to a halt beneath Bill, and for a moment the six of them just stared up at their leader in abject terror. Then Stan recovered enough common sense to gesture for Eddie to clamber onto his back and, with the help of Mike and Ben, pulled Bill back onto solid ground.

Stan, Eddie, Richie, Mike, Ben, and Bev gazed into Bill’s vacant stare. Beverly was the first to speak, her voice low and her own eyes still slightly glazed over from the deadlights.

“What… happened?” Bev whispered. 

“I don’t know,” Mike said, a current of panic in his voice. “I—we were with Stan, and then he ran off, and then we followed him and then we found you, and—”

“Shit,” Richie hissed through his teeth. “The fucking clown got him before we got here.”

“Fuck,” Eddie breathed.

Ben paused. “Well,” he ventured, five pairs of eyes turning to his, “at least we know how to… get him down, right?”

“Right,” Stan said. “With, um.”

“Yeah,” Ben confirmed, equally hesitantly.

The six Losers stared at each other but not  _ quite  _ at each other for a solid minute. And just when the awkwardness seemed to peak, Beverly opened her mouth.

“I’ll do it,” she said, but realized that she wasn’t alone in saying so. 

Mike’s eyes were wide, and so were Ben’s. Richie looked as if he was about to laugh, but something was stopping him. Eddie looked slightly freaked out. And Stan just looked bemused.

All of them had spoken simultaneously. 

Bev shut her mouth. “Guys?”

“I should do it,” Eddie— _Eddie_ _Kaspbrak—_ blurted. He looked just as surprised as the rest of them, and his face was as red as a cherry, but he kept talking anyway. “I’m his best friend.”

“Eddie, we appreciate that, but we all know  _ I’m  _ his best friend,” Stan argued, and right now the Losers’ Club were watching the two of them talk as if they were at a tennis match and the ball was flying high and fast. “I should do it.”

Richie spoke up. “I’m obviously his favorite. I’m doing it.” For once, whether or not he was joking was unclear.

“Hey, for all we know, I could be the only person who can do it,” Ben cut in. “So it should be me.”

“Yeah?” Richie gestured around the lair, indicating the numerous floating kids above them. “Why don’t you give your magic lips a workout and prove it, Ben?”

“Ew, gross,” Eddie said at the same time Bev stepped up and interjected, “I should do it.”

The boys looked at her. Beverly cleared her throat, feeling oddly insecure. “I escaped the deadlights, didn’t I? I probably have some kind of immunity now.”

“Beverly, I know we live in Derry, and it’s a shitfuck of a homophobic town,” Stan said, “but I’m pretty sure your kissing him won’t help more compared to ours.”

Richie looked uncomfortable, and Stan quickly amended, brows furrowing, “Not that I’m implying that you’re homophobic… unless—you are?”

“What?” Beverly was appalled. “The fuck, Stanley?  _ No _ .”

“Yeah, and judging by how we’re literally arguing over who gets to smooch Big Bill here, I doubt any of us are either, right?” Richie joked. It fell slightly flat but not so much as to alert the others to his doubt—aside from Stanley, who shot him a swift concerned look.

Eddie looked as if he were about to speak up, but then thought better. The rest simply shook their heads.

“Great.” Stan clapped his hands together. For a bit he looked authoritative, and the rest of the Losers relaxed imperceptibly as if Bill was there, despite how Stan’s face was still damp from freaking out and crying and how there was still blood running down his cheek from the bite marks. “Ben, what’s your connection to Beverly?”

“I—” Ben stammered. “What?”

“You kissed her. It worked. Why?”

“I—I don’t know, I just—tried?” Ben blushed furiously. “Got lucky?”

“Cut the crap, Ben,” said Richie. “We all know you got the hots for her. Is that why it worked?”

Ben couldn’t have been more red if he’d tried. Beverly put a hand on his shoulder, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. “Stop it, guys,” she said. 

“No, they’re right,” Ben said quietly—although it wasn’t the admission to Beverly that had him embarrassed, since she knew clearly now that it was him who wrote the poem. It was the admission to the rest of the Losers that had his face red. “I do like Beverly, but I don’t know if that’s why it worked.”

“So that’s one hypothesis,” Mike said.

“Oh,  _ hypothesis, _ ” Richie repeated. “We’re really busting out our big boy words today. Yowza.”

“Beep-beep, Richie,” Mike muttered.

“Fine.”

“So what do we do?” Eddie demanded. “Just stand here arguing?”

“Geez, Eds, fine,” Richie said. “I’ll do it now, damn.”

Stan put a hand out to prevent Richie from advancing on Bill. “Oh, no you don’t.”

“We can stand around in this clown sewer all day, Uris,” Richie said.

“I’d really rather not,” Eddie muttered.

“Fine,” Richie said. “Anyone here have a crush on Big Bill?”

He asked as a joke, but five hands went up. The Losers stared at each other in muted shock for what seemed like the hundredth time since they first saw Bill suspended midair.

Beverly said, completely deadpan, “What, and you don’t, Richie?”

Richie stared back at her and quickly raised his hand. “Oh, no, fuck, totally. It’s Bill. Who doesn’t have a crush on him?”

“I thought you were straight,” Mike told Ben, whose blush still hadn’t receded.

“I am,” Ben admitted. “But it’s… Bill, so.”

“Fantastic,” Eddie said, putting his hand down quickly. “Really fantastic. I can’t believe this is happening. The fucking— _ clown’s _ probably going to just fuckin’ jump out at us any second, and we’re arguing over who gets to kiss Bill. Us, six outcasts, five of which are boys, living in this stupid homophobic town, standing in the sewers. There are dead kids floating above us. A stupid alien clown wants us dead. My life has come to this. It literally has.”

“Can we eliminate Eddie with his existential crisis?” Richie asked. Bev elbowed him, glaring. “Ow! Fuck this.”

He grabbed the front of Bill’s shirt and leaned in, but before Richie could make it, Stan pushed him away. Richie went stumbling, and looked at his friend with a stunned expression. “Did you just push me?”

“I—” Stan fumbled. Then he turned and made to kiss Bill himself—but was quickly intercepted by Eddie, who dove in front of him and blocked his way. Beverly took the chance to move in on Bill, but Mike beat her to it, stepping in front of her and immediately getting shoved away by Richie, who was then tripped by Ben. By then, it’d become a full on scuffle, with Richie pulling at the back of Stan’s shirt and Eddie facing off against Bev and Mike and Stan trying to push Ben out of the way.

“STOP,” Stan yelled, and Ben ceased trying to get past him but Richie persisted in pulling Stan back—and he ended up yanking too hard and sent Stan sprawling onto him.

“Shit, Stan, sorry,” Richie panted, and Stan rolled off him, groaning.

“I hate all of you,” Stan griped.

Eddie was still stuck in a stand-off between Mike and Beverly. “What the fuck do we do now?”

As if to answer him, the ground started shaking.

Eddie yelped and tripped, splashing into a puddle of greywater and groaning in disgust. The ground stopped trembling in a few seconds, and Eddie stood up, gagging at the scent of the water dripping off of him. “Fuck!”

An eerie music-box carnival song started playing, the tell-tale beginning crackle of a radio show host started echoing through the chamber. and Beverly shivered. “That’s his theme song,” she whispered. “He was playing it before he caught me in the lights.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Richie was chanting.

_ “Someone wake Bill the fuck up!” _ Ben yelled, and a leering laugh swept through the chamber mockingly. But nothing jumped out yet—it was as if what Bill had done to It before he got caught in the deadlights, whatever it was, had  _ hurt _ It enough to stall It,

But Pennywise was coming. They all felt it.

“Fuck!” Stan cursed, and stalked over to Bill. He cut a furious glare to the rest of the Losers. “Anyone want to step the  _ fuck _ up and fight me? Or do we want our fucking leader back already?”

Everyone, while looking reluctant, refrained from doing so.

“Fuck, Stan the Man, you are  _ feral, _ ” Richie whispered almost admiringly.

“That’s what I fucking thought,” Stan growled. He grabbed Bill by the shoulders and leaned in almost tenderly, a dramatic contrast to how intense he’d been acting. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and kissed Bill.

Stan’s lips pressed against Bill’s,  _ finally _ , and the first thought Stan had wasn’t about how he was finally acting on a long-awaited want, a childhood crush that he thought would go away with time but he was still stuck with in his teenage years—it was about how Bill’s lips were warm, despite how lifeless he looked, and how Stan felt like maybe,  _ maybe _ he wasn’t imagining how Bill was starting to lean into him, into the kiss.

Someone—probably Bev—inhaled sharply, and Stan’s eyes fluttered open to see Bill’s gaze observing him through his lowered eyelashes, the last of the vacant stare finally receding. Stan quickly broke the kiss and stepped back hastily, his face burning.

Bill looked from Stanley to Richie to the rest of the Losers, and reached a tentative hand up to touch his lips. His gaze settled back on Stan as he slowly asked, “D—Did you juh—just—”

“Yes, I just kissed you, yeah it worked, no, we don’t have time to talk about it, yeah, I’ll probably deflect questions from you about it for the rest of our lives,” Stanley blurted out just as the ground started shaking for real. A maniacal laugh echoed above their heads, and the Losers instinctively huddled closer together, backing up towards the center of the chamber.

Richie started drawing items out of the junkpile, passing them around to the Losers. His hands were shaking,  _ hard _ , but he managed to ensure that each and every one of them had something to defend themselves with. As he held out a length of chain to Stan, he leaned in and whispered, “Real smooth, Uris.”

“Beep-beep, Richie,” Stan hissed, but Richie only laughed.

“We’re going to have to talk about this someday,” Richie replied softly, keeping the conversation between the two of them.

“If we make it out of this,” Stan said, suddenly, “then fine.”

“We’ll muh—make it out o—of this,” Bill said suddenly, turning to Stanley. Their eyes met, and suddenly Stanley wasn’t the scared fifteen-year-old cowering with his friends, preparing to face down a killer alien clown. Suddenly, he was eleven again, trusting Bill completely with his entire heart and looking up to him with childlike yet sincere devotion. “We  _ wuh _ — _ will.” _

Stan held Bill’s gaze for a second. “Okay, Bill,” he said softly.

As a shadow started to coalesce from the corners and disjointed children’s laughter started echoing around them, the Losers held their weapons at the ready. The sound of sharp claws scraping against concrete sounded, and yet Stan only had one thing on his mind.

“Oh, and Richie?” Stan whispered quietly.

“Yeah, Stan?”

“Not a word of any of what happened to Bill,” Stan warned. There’s a pause, then Richie laughed—softly and nervously, but it was there.

“Yeah, yeah, Stan. I know.” Richie grinned, and held his bat tighter, raising it in anticipation. “Let’s kill this fucking clown, yeah?”

**Author's Note:**

> i love these kids. hope y'all liked my first fic in the IT fandom! i have so many wips of these guys its ridiculous
> 
> anyway hey check me out on instagram as [_quinnpin](https://instagram.com/_quinnpin) where i draw our favorite losers a lot! or alternatively my art tumblr which is also under the name [quinnpin](http://quinnpin.tumblr.com/) :)


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